


stone wings. (slenderpark.)

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, High School, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Mention of Slender man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia, Past Abuse, Slenderverse, sorta - Freeform, this is an anti cartman fic., vlogging - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Eric Cartman is found bludgeoned, South Park is thrust into chaos.





	stone wings. (slenderpark.)

“I don’t know how you do that.”

“How I do what?”

“That!”

“What?”

“You know, read.”

“You don’t know how I  _ read _ ?” Kyle sounds incredulous enough to make Kenny laugh.

“I meant how you read in the car,” Kenny glances to the passenger seat, where Kyle grins sheepishly at him from behind a book.

“Eyes on the road, dumbass.” Kyle gently pushes his face back.

The carefree nature of the drive almost distracted from it’s destination - the woods surrounding their small mountain town. Kyle is curled in an uncomfortable position in the passenger seat, his book perilously balanced on his knees, the window rolled down so he can let his arm hang out the window. South Park never got terribly hot in the summer, so it’s a comfortable 72 degree afternoon, Kyle’s tight curls pushed back in an uncomfortable looking hairband. He, however, looks almost serene.

“Seriously, I get sick looking down like that.” Kenny takes a sharp turn, drumming the steering wheel as they come to a red light. He turns his attention back to the redhead.

“It’s a good book. Better than texting Stan.”

“Has he seen any of the messages?”

“No, not yet.”

Kenny frowns, eyes shifting back as the light turned green. “Are we even sure we’re going in the right direction?”

“Liane said they went on a ‘forest retreat’. Seemed too excited to be lying.”

“Okay, yeah, good point.”

“I still can’t believe he wasted the last weekend before summer with fucking  _ Cartman.” _

“Who knows? Maybe the guy’s shaping up!”

That made them both laugh. Kenny reached the edge of the woods and put the car in park. He came around the side to open Kyle’s door, doing a little bow that made the ginger snort. 

“What’re you reading, anyhow?”

“It’s called  _ House of Leaves _ ,” Kyle sat the book in on the console as he hopped out onto the grass. “Just something to do.”

“You just said it was a good book.”

“Just something to say.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. 

The walk through the woods was similarly peaceful - Kenny stopped to pick a flower and hand it to Kyle.

“Why are you doing that.”

“It’s funny.”

Kyle crushed the flower in his hand.

“Yowch.”

“Anyway, which direction are we even heading?” Kyle tilted his head.

“I figured we’d check that old cabin. Remember the one?”

“Oh, yeah, that tracks.” 

The cabin looked just the same as it had all those years ago, all ratty curtains and dark, splintered wood. Most noticeably, Cartman’s bright red coat was hung over the porch railing.

“Found ‘em,” Kenny gestured to the jacket.

“Okay, cool. But where are their cars? And why is it so dark in there?”

“Maybe they parked somewhere else. C’mon.” Kenny hopped onto the porch and put his hand on the knob.

“...Kenny, I have a bad feeling about this.” Kyle wrung his hands.

“Why? Dude, it’s fine.”

“I don’t know. Just think about it. We’re in these creepy woods, tracking down our friend who hasn’t talked to us in three days, and there’s no sign of him besides a jacket some other asshole left. We don’t even know if Stan’s really  _ with  _ Cartman. Wouldn’t Butters make more sense for him to invite out?”

“Ky.”

“Kenny?”

“You know how you sound right now, right?”

Kyle’s face grew red. “Fuck off. Just open the door.”

“Nuh-huh! If it’s so scary, you should do it with me.”

“Oh my god, you’re  _ such _ an asshole.” Kyle stomped up to the door and shoved Kenny’s hand away, but a smile ghosted on his face.

He lost the smile in an instant.

The inside of the cabin looked like a warzone. Blood splattered the far window, clothes lay thrown around the room, a backpack torn open on the ground. Front and center was what barely registered as a human corpse - a crumpled form of blood and brains, a blue hat laying next to where their head would have been.

A  _ cyan  _ blue hat.

Kenny’s hand flew to his mouth. At the same time, Kyle vomited.

  
  
  


“OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD-“

“Calm down, hey, hey-“

Kyle was crouched on the ground, pulling at his own hair and hyperventilating. Kenny kneeled beside him, reaching his hand out, only to find it was shaking.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN? HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN, KEN?!”

“K-Kyle, I get it, I’m not exactly jazzed about this, but you screaming isn’t helping anything!”

“I aaaaam GOING to throw up again.” He did. Kenny grimaced. He was fairly used to gory scenes like this, but Kyle wouldn’t be - he didn’t have the same memories.

That didn’t make it any less of a shock.

Eric Cartman, their somewhat-friend-mostly-enemy of 18 years, was laying dead next to them. He barely even had a  _ head  _ anymore. It didn’t matter if Cartman was a shitstain of a person - nobody deserved...whatever had happened to him.

Most importantly, Stan was nowhere to be found.

“What if whoever killed Cartman killed Stan too?! Oh my god. Oh my god! There’s a  _ murderer  _ running around, holy shit!” 

“Kyle. Kyle.  _ Kyle.” _ Kenny gripped him by the shoulders and turned him to face him. “The best thing we can do right now is call the police, alright? Alright?”

He searched his eyes for any sort of recognition before Kyle gulped and nodded.

  
  


Kenny and Kyle told the police everything they knew. Typically, Kenny was sort of cagey with law enforcement, but when you’re a known delinquent next to a childhood friend’s massacred dead body, you take less chances. 

Stan was very quiet at school Friday. He said he was invited to spend the weekend with Cartman. The two went radio silent and did not reappear at school on Monday. Kenny and Kyle went to find them. They found a corpse. Fin.

Kyle puked every time he thought about the body, so Kenny could see them marking him off the suspect list in their head. Kenny had been working all weekend and didn’t have a car (they were driving Kyle’s, which took a day in itself to wrangle from Sheila), so he hoped the same was true for himself. The list of suspects for a kid like Eric Cartman couldn’t be small - the asshole makes enemies everywhere he goes.

Everywhere he went.

Fuck. Cartman was really dead, wasn’t he?

“You  _ need  _ to find Stan,” Kyle’s lip quivered pitifully. “All of his stuff is gone. He’s p-probably hiding somewhere!”

“Leave the theorizing to us, sweetheart,” The officer patted Kyle’s shaking shoulder. Irritation spiked in Kenny, but he chose to ignore it. God, the law enforcement in South Park sucked -  _ he  _ should know.

“It’s probably a good idea,” Kenny interjected, putting his hand on Kyle’s shoulder and pulling him out of the man’s grip. “If Stan was here with Cartman, he might be the best lead you have. He could have seen who did it and gotten away.”

The officer gazed at him quizzically, like he was trying to place a familiar face but couldn’t. “Well. I think we know what we’re doing, young man. We have procedures for this kind of thing.”

“What, I don’t get a ‘sweetheart’?”

Kyle elbowed Kenny in the ribs, giving him a warning glare.

“You kids head home. It’s not safe for civilians to be in these woods right now. We’ll keep in touch.”

Civilians. Ha.

Kyle dragged Kenny away by his wrist.

“Oh, and Mr. McCormick? Watch your mouth, boy.”

Kenny couldn’t help but laugh.

  
  


On Wednesday morning, Stan was still nowhere to be found.

Kenny faltered when he didn’t see him in his usual spot next to Kyle  _ again  _ in English. The ginger himself looked lost. Kenny sits behind him and holds out his hand, which Kyle takes gratefully.

Their English teacher runs through the motions of how sad it is that Eric passed on, how much he will be missed, whatever whatever yadda yadda.

“I know that we are all struggling with the loss of Eric.” She gestures for everyone to sit, and nobody really pays her any mind.

“Are we, though?” A girl next to Kenny snickers.

The teacher casts her a pointed look. “And for that reason, our amazing guidance counselors want you all to know you are all welc-”

“Sorry I’m late.”

Kenny turns his attention to the front of the room, and almost has a heart attack.

Stan practically waltzes through the door, slumping down in the desk next to Kenny. He doesn’t even look at them.

The teacher gives him a puzzled look, but continues talking, going on about the stages of grief and the loss of life. 

For the rest of the period, Kyle tries to get his attention, to no avail. When the bell rings, they end up having to grab Stan by the wrist to get him to stop.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” He raises his eyebrows at Kyle, who’s gripping his sweater sleeve for dear life. 

“What’s up with  _ you _ ? Where have you been? You scared the shit out of us!”

“You know. Out. Why’s it matter to you?”

“I don’t know, because you vanished into thin air on Friday, and Cartman  _ fucking died?” _

“Since when do you care about Cartman, dude?” Stan tilts his head. “Figured you’d be jumping for joy.”

“Stan - somebody  _ died,”  _ Kenny interjects. “It doesn’t matter if he was an asshole. We’ve been his ‘friend’ our whole lives. He was murdered, and you were missing, so of course we were worried.”

“Well...you didn’t need to be. Sorry.”

Kyle looks like he’s on the verge of a remark when Stan walks away. He and Kenny both share a glance. 

Something was up. Stan was never good at hiding when something was up.

“Well, he’s not dead,” Kenny offers. 

Kyle sighs. “Yeah, he’s not. That’s good. But what’s his fucking deal?”

“How about this. You go to his house after school, see what’s up. Maybe his parents are just fighting again. That always sucks, he might just be having a hard time.”

“But where did he go, dude? If he wasn’t hiding after Cartman died...what  _ happened  _ to him?”

And that was something Kenny couldn’t answer. 

  
  
  


**kyle: Dude, Stan isn’t at his house.**

The text comes in a few hours after school. Kenny’s helping Karen with her math homework, pulling his phone out of his pocket just slightly as it buzzes.

“Who’ya texting?” Karen peeks over his shoulder, and Kenny quickly makes a show of hiding his phone just to make her giggle.

“Nunya,” He replies, poking her nose. 

“Telllll meeee.”

“Geez, it’s just Kyle. No biggie. I’m gonna call him real quick, is that cool?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll just finish this problem.” She beams up at Kenny.

He smiled and stepped out into the hall (though Karen could probably hear him through the walls) before calling Kyle.

“Hey, man. What the hell are you talking about?”

He hears Kyle suck in a harsh breath. “I went to go take him his homework, so I could check on him like you said, and Sharon looked at me like I was crazy. Said he hadn’t come home and the police had no leads. When I told her he was at school that day she didn’t believe me until she called one of the teachers.”

“He...didn’t go home? What the fuck?”

“I know! I...I’m sitting down here now, but I have to go home before Ma loses it. Can you take over? Maybe check out his room? I don’t know…”

“Yeah, uh...I mean, I can try. I was kind of helping out Karen. With her homework.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we could just let him figure himself out, man. He’s a big kid.”

“I don’t know….”

“You live right next to him, you’ll see if he gets home. Hey, how about this - I wanted to talk to Leo at the wake tomorrow. If Stan shows up, we talk to him. If he doesn’t, go as mom mode as you’d like.”

Kyle laughs. “Whatever. Fine. I’m sure he’s just being melodramatic...I just didn’t expect Cartman’s death to affect him like this.”

“Everything’s gonna work out. You guys can’t stay fighting for more than a month.”

“Sure, sure. Why do you wanna talk to Butters so bad, anyway?”

Kenny’s smile falls. “I just have a question.”

  
  
  
  


The turnout to Cartman’s wake was surprising, to say the least.

Butters is there, which surprised no one - shuffling his feet and looking around, lost. Heidi, strangely enough, but she always did seem to pity the asshat. Nichole, rubbing Heidi’s arm, though neither of them look particularly sad. A handful of adults paying their respect.

Kenny figured he and Kyle were strange enough of a turnout as it was; the two were sort of famous for casting Cartman out of their friend group in eighth grade when Kyle beat the shit out of him in the middle of the hallway, and Kenny tried his best to prevent anyone from stopping him. The two hadn’t physically fought since fourth grade, and Cartman clearly wasn’t ready for Kyle to sock him in the face when he called him the fifth slur that hour. 

When Kyle got back from his fairly shorter than normal suspension (on grounds of self defense from hate speech or something like that), he unceremoniously suggested Stan and Kenny move lunch tables with him. They were more than happy to oblige; the three of them had been looking for a chance to drop Cartman like the trash he was.

Until Stan suddenly said he was hanging out with him last Friday.

Kenny was rattled out of his trip down memory lane by Kyle nudging him in the ribs. “Fuck, dude, ow.”

“Sorry, needed your attention. Look.” He nods vaguely towards the ‘Lost but not Forgotten’ kiosk. Kenny follows his gaze to find Stan leaning up against the wall, surveying the room with a dark expression. He’s been avoiding them since that talk in the hall earlier that day.

“Should we….”

“I….” Kenny shakes his head. “Want to talk to Leo first. That’s why we came here. We can get Stan later.”

“Yeah, right, okay.”

“Or you could go talk to Stan and I could talk to Leo?”

Kyle bites his lip. “No...no. I’ll go with you. Something about him’s just making me...uneasy, right now.”

Kenny briefly considers asking him to elaborate but decides against it. “Alrighty then. Let’s go.”

Butters barely notices Kenny and Kyle walking up to him, and jumps when Kenny brushes up against his arm.

“O-oh...heya, Ken,” He blinks uncertainty and smiles weakly at them. “And Kyle. Feels like I haven’t seen you two in forever, huh? It’s a shame about Eric. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Yeah, about that. Leo, is there anything you want to talk about? Anything you’ve been...scared to say?”

He tilts his head at Kenny, but all the color drains from his face. “Whaddya mean?”

“Leo…” Kenny reaches forward and takes his hand. “He’s not...Cartman’s not  _ here  _ anymore. If you ever wanna talk to anyone about what happened what he did to you, I’m always here. Kyle too. Right, dude?”

Kyle nods gently, but twists the end of his vest nervously.

Butters’ lips quirk into a frown, fear masking over his face. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ken. Eric didn’t do anything to me. He was my...boyfriend. He loved me.”

“Butters, you...you know that isn’t true. You don’t have to protect him anymore.”

Butters tears his hand away from Kenny, but plasters a smile on his face. “I should be heading h-home. I’ll see you fellas later.”

And he’s gone, leaving them in the dust.

“Even in death, he’s under his thumb,” Kyle frowns. “It’s fucked up. I’m waiting for him to tell me he just ran into a door.”

“He did tell me that one, once,” Kenny sighs. “Remember when he had that nasty black eye the day after he told Cartman to leave you alone? That was his excuse that time.”

“Jesus  _ christ.” _

Kenny feels sick to his stomach, watching Butters leave. He thought, since Cartman was dead, he might finally be able to help him. He’d watched their twisted relationship from afar for four years, desperately trying to get Butters to talk to him, ask him for help, but it never worked.

“Wait, is Stan following him?”

He certainly is. Stan is practically sneaking along the side wall, slipping out through the cathedral doors. 

“Should  _ we _ follow  _ him _ ?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

They wait until Stan’s a few steps ahead to follow him down the sidewalk, where Butters is a pale blue blur ahead. Kenny notices in particular the way Stan walks - a careful, measured stride, like somebody trying way too hard to look casual.

And then he turns around.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Kyle’s face flares red. “What the fuck are  _ you  _ doing?”

“Walking down the street. Like a normal person. Until I noticed you following me. Like freaks.”

“After  _ you  _ were following Butters.”

“To talk to him. And I’ve probably lost him now, thanks to you assholes.”

“To talk to him about what?” Kenny snaps. “He’s clearly  _ fragile.  _ Did you forget somebody died, Stan?!”

“Oh, my God, again with that!  _ Cartman  _ died!” Stan throws up his hands, and only then does Kenny notice how wild his eyes look - unfocused and bloodshot, bags underneath. “ _ Cartman died.  _ It doesn’t fucking matter. The world is going to be undoubtedly better without that asshole in it!”

“Stan, are you okay?” 

He glares at that, scoffing. “Whatever. Stop following me.”

And he bounds down the street.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” Kyle groans.

Kenny doesn’t respond, just staring at the space Stan left.

  
  
  
  
  


Kenny’s crouched on the roof of the police station.

Something isn’t right - he  _ knows  _ something isn’t right. First, Cartman, then Stan’s weird behavior. One day he could chalk up to grief, but following Butters, not going home….it all just makes Kenny feel queasy. 

So he figured he’d enlist some of his Mysterion training.

Kenny hadn’t actually done anything as Mysterion since seventh grade - when Kevin inspired him to protect Karen as himself, he hadn’t felt the need to keep up her guardian angel. Of course, that didn’t mean that Kenny didn’t want to keep himself in the shape Karen might need - leading to him, now, watching over the town like he had all those years ago.

South Park is relatively quiet on weeknights - a small party here, a few drunks there. The real wild nights came around on the weekends. Kenny thinks back to just a few weeks ago, at one of Clyde’s signature keg parties, with Stan draping himself over a chuckling Kyle’s shoulders. His stomach turns.

His Stan, his childhood friend, is in trouble. And Kenny has to help him.

As if on cue, Kenny sees a light flicker on in an old warehouse on the edge of town, near the U-Store-It. It could be nothing. It could be Stan.

Kenny hops from roof to roof, feeling his ratty sneakers hit the gravel. He should have changed shoes. He should have worn the Mysterion costume. He should have done a lot of things.

He lands next to a window of the warehouse. The building is old, built when they were maybe twelve, with deep set panes and dark grey walls. Kenny grabs the window sill, hoisting himself through the opening. 

Inside, a single light bulb is on, revealing a fold out plastic table. Kenny glances around, checking the area is clear, before walking towards it. 

And he isn’t sure what he finds, really.

On the table are several sheets of sketch paper, scrawled on in thick pencil, as if the person was bearing down as hard as they could. Kenny can’t really understand the words, only a few names jumping out -  _ Eric, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Leopold, Nichole -  _ but the drawings accompanying them disturb him the most. Drawings of himself, of Kyle, of Cartman, mangled corpses and lost limbs. A crude sketch of Cartman with the mouth of a wolf, jowls dripping with something unidentifiable. Nichole, with snake fangs - Kenny can’t think of the last time he spoke to her. A drawing of Cartman’s dead body. Strange symbols.

And a man, in a suit, with no face.

“How did you get in here?”

Kenny jumps to attention, turning with his fists in the air, ready to fight. 

Standing in the darkness is Stan, shivering in the warm night. He looks like a cornered animal, ready to pounce.

“Stan.” Kenny unclenches his fists. “Stan, buddy, what’s wrong?”

“Why are you fucking following me?! Why won’t you and Kyle leave me alone?!” Stan points accusingly at Kenny, the words tearing out of his throat. 

“We’re worried about you, dude! You’re not okay!”   
  


“Just get...get away from me!” He’s trembling, voice shaky, and it stabs Kenny right in the heart. “I don’t need your help.”

Kenny steps forward, carefully, like Stan might actually pounce on him. He looks so scared, bags under his eyes, shaking like a leaf. “Just talk to us, Stan. Please. If not Kyle, just talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

Stan shifts at that, his eyes raising to meet Kenny’s. He looks...wrong. Intense. Intimidating. So many words Kenny never would use to describe his mellow, lovesick childhood friend. 

“You want me to tell you what happened, Kenneth?”

Kenny doesn’t say anything, stepping back.

“I killed Eric Cartman.”

...What?

Stan smiles, and fuck, it’s not his smile. He looks...positively deranged, grinning at Kenny like that. “I killed Cartman. He took me to that stupid fucking cabin, and I bashed his brains in with a rock. It was...exhilarating, Kenny.”

“W-what the fuck, dude. You’re kidding, right?” He has to be kidding. Stan couldn’t...kill somebody, not like that.

“Don’t tell me you’re grieving for him. I did...I did the right thing. The way he treated Kyle, the way he treated you...and poor fucking Butters.” Stan runs a hand through his hair, his hat falling back further on his head. “He wanted me to turn on you. That’s why he brought me there. He wanted to make me  _ like he was.  _ And the things, he said, about you and Ky...when he turned around, I had to do it, Ken. I  _ had  _ to. And when I did, I felt so free. You have to understand that, Ken. You have to.”

Stan reaches out to touch him, and Kenny flinches back. No, no, no. He’s lying, he must be.

Stan’s face falls. “Of course. You don’t get it.”

“S-Stan…” Kenny swallows hard - it feels like a block of ice is stuck in his throat. “You’re not well, Stan. You need help.”

Stan blinks up at him.

Kenny sees a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye.

And Stan stabs him right in the heart.

Kenny coughs, doubling over, and Stan moves back to let him fall. Pain blooms from the wound in his chest - he touches it, and when his hand comes back, it’s drenched in blood. He tilts his head back up to Stan, who looks from the bloody knife in his hand, to his friend on the ground.

“I said I don’t need help.”   
  
  


  
  
  


Kenny wakes up, gasping for air, clutching his chest. It still aches from where he was...stabbed.

By Stan.

His friend.

Who is a murderer.

Things just got very, very complicated.


End file.
